


A Little Nighttime Chat

by nadia5803



Series: nadia’s king lear au [5]
Category: King Lear - Shakespeare
Genre: Rivalry, Tension, this was so weird to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadia5803/pseuds/nadia5803
Summary: Cornwall goes to check on the captive.
Series: nadia’s king lear au [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612093
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	A Little Nighttime Chat

Being tied up and unable to move was no fun at all. 

As the night went on, and the more Kent stared at the dim stars, the more he began to regret this whole thing. There was no moon - it was curtained by dark clouds, but the tiny blue pinholes of stars peeked out from between the darkness, and Kent tried to remember the constellations, the star maps he’d glanced over once or twice, his high school astronomy class. But, of course, he was nearly bored to tears, and the stiffness in his legs and neck was not easing anything.

Unlike the poor soul outside, Cornwall was not tied up to his neck. Cornwall sat at the dining table, alone, twirling his pen as he thought about the one outside. Those eyes, that voice. It was all too familiar. He knew, or at least he began to think so. The puzzle pieces began to fall into place as he bit his lip, thinking away. Cornwall slammed his pen down, got to his feet, and found his jacket. His mind a blur, he headed towards the front door, and shouted down the hallway. “Oswald!”   
  


The little man came skittering down the hallway, a band aid scrupulously fitted on his cheek. “Yes, sir?”

  
“Leave a light on. I’m going for a walk.”

“It’s awfully late, sir.”

Cornwall stared down at Oswald, silent, and threatening. Oswald inhaled through his nose, exhaled a sigh, and turned back down the hallway. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Oswald muttered something beneath his breath as he walked off, but Cornwall wasn’t willing to put his energy into an argument with a servant. It was much better for him to pick on someone his own size, anyways, and he wouldn’t want to incite Goneril’s anger, either. The front porch light flickered on, and a smile darted across Cornwall’s face. He pushed the door open, made sure it was shut firm behind, and glanced over at the capture.

Kent looked up when he heard the front door open and shut and his head dropped back to the hard dirt as he let out a panicked breath. “Shit, shit. Shit,” he rolled over on his side and his dented glasses slided right off his face, and in a fruitless attempt to recover them with his bound hands, he fell over onto his stomach, and heard the snap of plastic beneath him.

Dammit.

He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh, and they flew back open as Cornwall seized him by the tightly bound legs and flipped him over onto his back. “Ow,” Kent murmured. Curiously, he opened one eye, and found Cornwall standing over him, smiling. Mistake. Kent swallowed a winge and shut his eyes again, when Cornwall bent down next to him.

“Seems you broke your glasses, Curan,” Cornwall said softly, picking the broken pair up off the ground and giving them an observant look. “Or…” He looked back up at the fettered Kent and grinned. “Richard, Earl of Kent. Funny for us to meet again, finally.” 

“It’s been three days,” Kent mumbled, feeling the blood rush to his face.

“And it seems you’ve gone off the rails since then.”

“Leave me alone. What do you want?”

“Well, you know I can’t do both of those things at once, love,” Cornwall laughed and inched closer to Kent, kneeling beside him and placing the broken glasses on his chest. Kent rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Alright. Just thought we’d have a chat.”

Kent remained silent.

“I thought what you did was very noble, especially for someone of your standing.”

Silence.

“You’re less of a coward than I took you for, Richard.”

Silence.

“You know you’ll be hanged if he finds out.”   
  


“I know.”

Cornwall stared at Kent’s face and sensed something a bit different about his demeanor. Maybe it was his cruel rejection by the man he trusted and looked up to. Maybe it was the unfair response to Cordelia’s disownment. Maybe, maybe, maybe. A lot of possibilities. But Cornwall could sense the slight shift in Kent’s behavior. He wasn’t the soft, whiny, know-it-all child he originally thought. There had been a change - maybe it was acting, or maybe it was another layer of Kent he hadn’t seen. But, reluctantly, Cornwall placed a comforting hand atop Kent’s head.

“I’m sorry.”

“If you were sorry I wouldn’t be tied up.”

“You tried to kill Oswald with a rapier, Kent.”

“You probably try to do that all the time.”

Cornwall chuckled and rubbed Kent’s forehead and gave him another solid head pat. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Of course you aren’t.”

“Why so quiet?”

“Sorry?”

  
“You’re suddenly so quiet. Why the change, know-it-all? You always had to jump into every conversation. See, that’s what almost got you killed back there. Ah. Maybe that’s it,” Cornwall said, shifting his position and propping Kent up into a sitting position. They made eye contact for a brief moment and Kent looked aside, down at the earth.

“Glad you acquired critical thinking skills, Forsyth.”

“Hey,” Cornwall reddened, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t heard his name uttered in years, except by his wife. It was unfamiliar to hear it again, especially on the tongue of his rival.

“Oh, you can call me by my first name but I can’t call you by yours? Double-standard-having douchebag, you are. Forsyth Duke of Cornwall,” Kent rolled his eyes again and grumbled, trying to shift his awkward position to make it more comfortable for him.

“Richard, former Earl of Kent. Duke’s above an Earl. And I’m a part of the high nobility now. You are an exile in the eyes of the state. I can call you by whatever name I please. You do not have that privilege. You are a fugitive, in fact. A criminal,” Cornwall said, squeezing Kent’s cheeks with an outstretched hand and a pleased smile.

“You’re a glorified primary school bully, Forsyth.”

“And you are a glorified primary school know-it-all, Richard. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“You must finally be happy to be back in favor now that I’m gone,” Kent muttered, shooting Cornwall an icy glare.

“I am. I truly am. But we simply can’t have a pawn like you dominate this whole game of chess once again, Richard. There’s some meticulous planning going on here,” Cornwall said as he rose to his feet.   
  
“Oh, yes? Enlighten me, O great Duke of Cornwall,” Kent struggled to give a bow to the Duke, who chuckled as he placed his hand atop Kent’s head, straightening it back up. He could feel Kent tense and tremble beneath his hand.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Richard. Too much is at stake for me to reveal to a lowly fugitive like you. But, oh, Richard, darling…” Cornwall grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked Kent backwards, staring into his eyes with murderous glee. “It would be a shame if someone were to rat you out to the King, eh? Would really be a shame if you were sent to the gallows. I hear they’re awfully empty nowadays. Hmm… hanging or beheading? Eeny, meeny, miney, moe…” 

He could see the terror in Kent’s expression as he released him. “You’re a masochist,” Kent gasped, shakily trying to catch his breath. Cornwall giggled like a schoolboy and put his finger on Kent’s forehead, slowly tilting him over onto his back like a fallen domino. 

“Invader. Criminal, now, too,” Cornwall said, towering over Kent with a menacing smile. “Ah… I suppose we will see what happens. It’s kind of sad, now, that I have all this power and you don’t. You were a good contender at court, Richard. It was nice knowing you.”

Kent was silent. He stared up at Cornwall, eyes wide, like a petrified child. Cornwall stared back down at him, stone-faced. For a moment, Cornwall felt a bit of guilt. He frowned, ran a hand through his hair, and muttered an apology. It was lost to a teary-eyed Kent, though, and Cornwall sighed.

“Don’t cry, now, Richard. I thought you changed.”

“It hurts.”

  
“What?”

  
“It’s rather tight. The ropes...” Kent sniffed, staring wide-eyed up at Cornwall. Cornwall stooped down and stuck his hand beneath the ropes on Kent’s chest. He could feel the pounding of Kent’s heart and was struck once again with that sinking feeling of guilt in his stomach.

“Show me your hands,” Cornwall muttered. Kent bent over, showing his bound hands behind his back. Cornwall stuck his hands under the ropes, pulling them a bit loose, and then moved to Kent’s ankles, slightly loosening them there too. “My apologies.”

“No problem, your highness.”

Cornwall rolled his eyes and knocked his feet together, placing his hands behind his back and strolling back off towards the front door, giving Kent a wave. “Have a good night, Kent.”

  
Kent’s eyes gazed back up at the night sky.   
  
“You too.”


End file.
